The miracles of St Clements

by Amanda Percival (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

I didn't expect to find Macedonia

“The winter months are quiet in my town. It’s cold, not many tourists, restaurants and shops close. Being a tour guide can be difficult. My son was ill a few weeks ago and I needed some money to buy him medicine. So I sat on my bench next to the Church and prayed to St Clements for just one tourist to show up. I needed a miracle.” I wasn’t supposed to be here. I was lost. I was meant to be visiting the Church of St. John at Kaneo; a picturesque Church perched on the edge of a cliff overlooking the pearly Lake Ohrid in North Macedonia (FYROM). I had followed the wrong sign, paid a small entry fee and entered the wrong church. In Ohrid, mistaking churches is a common occurrence. The small town spanning just 383.9km², once homed 365 churches, one for each day of the year. I was standing on the grounds of Saint Clement and Panteleimon. Seated on the top of Plaošnik hill, it was a calming place. A practising Orthodox Church stood in the centre, surrounded by some Roman ruins and a small rose garden. The winter chill got to me and I was about to move on when a small woman with a red bobble hat waved over. “Would you like a tour?” I hesitated. This spot didn’t seem particularly special, would I really need a tour? She promised me I would not regret it. “Okay. How much?” We sat down on a bench and she pulled out a tiny plastic wallet. “I make all the materials myself!’ she proudly announces as she extracts pages of information. Some pages had been lovingly laminated, others clung to each other with a combination of staples and sellotape. Her name is Veska. Holding out her name badge she tells me she has been a tour guide in North Macedonia for 9 years. She specialises in Orthodox churches, special cave churches from 13-14th century A.D, and has a particular fondness for the interpretation of mosaics. Luckily for us, the church of St Clements has all of the above, not that it looks particularly extraordinary. The tour begins. Having endured multiple rulers, from Roman to Ottoman, the main theme was: education. St Clements, whose name is credited with inventing the Cyrillic alphabet, translated the first scriptures into the vernacular and therefore to the masses. This alphabet is still used in 50 countries today. The Ottoman, Sinanuddin Yuself Celebri, whose rose garden on the Church grounds commemorates his life of goodwill, set up education centres on this hill and a soup kitchen for the poor. With education comes the gift of identity, and in a country where identity has been lost so many times, this offering was a miracle. The church that stands there now was reconstructed in 2002, rebuilt in a similar fashion to Veska’s notes, with the bricks from the original orthodox church glued together. The rose garden was recently restored by the Turkish tourism foundation in 2012. Construction work on the right side of the church is taking place to build a new university for future learners. Always, learning. “Now we move into the church. I know all the best photography angles! Follow me!” We passed through doors cluttered with stop signs- no bathing suits- we entered under the golden arch, with St Clements looking down on us in mosaic form. Veska points to a glass box covered by a red cloak in the corner of a plain interior church. “This is now the resting place of St Clements, finally we got him back! It was a miracle.” Veska spoke more about miracles. From finishing her own story about being able to care for her ill son because two tourists appeared at the right moment, to a man who on a visit to the Church wished he could learn about Macedonian wine, and two glasses appeared. To me, wandering lost today and Veska being my teacher. Miracles or coincidences, this is an unexpectedly special place, Veska was sure. Miracles happened here very often. “I’m going to set up a website to record these miracles properly, so like you, more people can learn all about them.”